Stages of Grief
by bohemienne
Summary: Based on Sleeping Beauty. Aurora grieves for who she was, who she is, and who she will become. In the process, she discovers who she wants to be.


Disclaimer: I don't own _Sleeping Beauty_ or any of its characters, but Disney does.   


Stages of Grief

When she woke, she was in the forest again. Aurora opened her eyes slowly, breathing in the fresh air and the scent of buttercups. Everything was as it should be. There was no castle, no crown. She was Briar Rose again, and the trees all seemed to smile down on her, welcoming her back home.

Aurora looked up at the sky, and, not for the first time, she wished she could swim in it, or that she could float on the clouds, looking down on the forest and the little cottage. They would look for her, of course. Her three aunts were always worrying about her. They would fret and become flustered, and Flora would blame Merryweather, and Merryweather's face would scrunch up. But Fauna would look up into the sky and see Aurora nestled within a cloud. Aurora would wave down, and Fauna would point upwards, the one place Flora and Merryweather would never think to look. They would beg her to come back down where it was safe, but Aurora would pretend not to hear them (she was too far up, you see) and continue to float through the sky. It seemed so real: she could feel the cloud, whisper-soft against her cheek, and she could see the entire world without having to worry about getting hurt or lost.

It was so real, in fact, that Aurora thought for a moment that it was actually happening. She opened her eyes, surprised that they were closed in the first place, and saw that she was still on the ground. But she was still completely comfortable. The grass seemed to cradle her, and the sound of the wind as it brushed by her was like a lullaby (the kind her mother always whispered to an empty cradle, hoping her daughter could hear her from afar). Aurora didn't really want to get up, but she supposed she should. Flora would be so upset if she stained her new dress, a gift for her birthday—but when Aurora looked down, she saw that she wasn't wearing the dress anymore. She was back in her simpler clothes, her dress that wouldn't be fit for a princess, but was just fine for plain Briar Rose.

"It must have all been a dream," she said out loud, slowly standing up. It was Aurora's habit to speak even when there was no one to listen. It was not that she didn't like the silence; she just wanted to feel a part of the forest around her, to interact with the trees who were just as much her guardians as the three old women in the cottage. "All of that nonsense about princesses and fairies and sixteenth birthdays—it was all a dream. How silly of me! To think that I could have any home but this one! I wonder if—" But she couldn't say that part out loud, the part about the young man who danced with her. She had thought that was a dream, too, but once she spoke of him to her friends in the forest, he had appeared. Maybe he was still here, she thought. Maybe all she had to do was dream of him, and he would come back, and dance with her once more.

She carefully walked further into the woods. Her feet were bare, but every step was as soft as if she were wearing the most delicate slippers. In the faintest whisper, barely audible, she said, "Are you there? Will you dance with me again?"

And just like last time, there he was. He looked exactly as he did before, but even handsomer, if that could be possible. Aurora froze, but it didn't matter; she did not need to do anything. He stepped forward, took her in his arms, and they started to waltz through the trees, like before. Aurora had never been so happy. Softly humming a song (_their_ song), she put her head on his shoulder, and he tightened his grasp around her small waist. This was everything she had ever wanted, and this time, no one would take it from her. She sighed contentedly, and looked into the face of her suitor. He smiled at her, but did not speak. There was only tender love in his eyes, and Aurora hoped he would lean in to kiss her. Just as the thought passed through her head, he leaned forward, his lips nearing hers. Aurora closed her eyes and waited for his embrace.

"How touching," she heard a voice say from behind her.

Aurora whirled around, all thoughts of her dream suitor leaving her head, and saw her nightmare.

She stood there, only a few paces away, and nothing appeared as it had before. The sun had gone, and the clouds were angry. Where _she_ stood, the grass had wilted; the small yellow flowers hunched over like frightened children. Even the trees took on a rather sinister appearance, their outstretched branches twisted and bare, an invitation to a painful embrace.

Seeing that woman, if she could be classified as such, brought back a flood of memories to Aurora. She was indeed a princess—it had been no dream—and she had succumbed to a curse that had been with her since her christening. In that moment when she had reached out to touch the spindle, Aurora had known that her entire life, all sixteen years, had been leading up to that very moment, that very room. It was a consummation, a rite more vital and satisfying than any royal ceremony could ever be for her. This was her throne, her ascension, and that eerie figure, that calm, cold voice that urged her forward, was helping her to fulfill her destiny. It was that moment when she finally realized why she had always felt like something important was going to happen to her, but could never understand where that feeling came from.

She stood there now, Aurora's other guardian, with a cruel smile on her face. For a time that seemed like eternity to Aurora, the two women stood face to face, not saying a word. Other than her reflection and her three aunts, Maleficent was the only woman Aurora had ever seen. With a feeling almost like shame, Aurora realized she should add her mother to that list as well. But wasn't Maleficent more of a mother to her, anyway? Her mother hadn't tried to find her in the sixteen years she had been gone, but Maleficent had never stopped searching. Maleficent had crafted and determined Aurora's life more completely than her mother ever had.

Aurora knew she should say something, or call for help, or even better, run far into the forest, but she was fascinated by the other woman. She was unlike anything Aurora had ever seen. There was something in Maleficent's eyes, in the faint curl of her lips, in the curve of her eyebrows, that Aurora could not recognize. _It's cruelty_, she realized. Even if she tried, Aurora could not imitate that look of pure malice in Maleficent's face. This deeply troubled her. It didn't seem fair. For all her goodness, for all her beauty and her kindness towards others, Aurora knew she was no match for this towering presence who fed on hatred and cruelty, and that just wasn't fair. Didn't love and goodness conquer all? Aurora wished her guardians had taught her the art of intimidation, the ability to strike fear in the hearts of one's enemies with just a glance, but it was hopeless now. She was hopeless. A hopeless, helpless girl who could never have the harsh, yet coldly beautiful face of the woman standing before her.

"I'm getting bored, princess. Are you ready for me to start gloating or are you going to continue staring at me?"

Aurora shook herself out of her reverie and tried to speak. "This can't be—I mean, you're not—I don't—"

"Please stop stammering; it's very irritating and not at all becoming for a princess."

Aurora took a deep breath and shakily asked, "Are you real? I mean, are you really here?"

"Just as much as you are. Do you mean to ask if I'm truly here or if you're simply dreaming me up?" Before Aurora could answer, Maleficent continued, softly running a hand over the top of her scepter. "It's a tricky question, and not one I feel like answering. It's more fun to see you squirm."

Aurora was terribly confused. On the one hand, everything was becoming very unclear, and she was technically asleep, wasn't she? She could be dreaming, which would mean that nothing was really happening. On the other hand, why on earth would she want to dream up Maleficent? Everything had been going so well; there had been no reason to disturb her newfound happiness with this terrifying reminder of reality. After all, she had been dancing with—

"The stranger!" she exclaimed suddenly. She had forgotten (_how _could she have forgotten?) her handsome dancing partner. With a choked cry, Aurora looked behind her, hoping her instincts were wrong, and that he was still there, ready to defend her against this pale green witch. But, of course, he was gone. Aurora sunk to her knees, her face buried in her hands. It took her a moment to realize that the noise she heard was not of her weeping, but of Maleficent's quiet laughter.

"He was a prince, you know," Maleficent said. Aurora heard her footsteps as Maleficent walked closer to Aurora's kneeling form. "So regal, so noble. He struggled valiantly."

"He'll save me," Aurora whispered to herself as much as to the shadow that loomed over her. He was her only hope, the only one who could save her. After all, she certainly couldn't save herself. She wasn't raised for it. "He'll find me. He'll break the curse. We'll be married." Each sentence was as solemn as a prayer, and Aurora quietly repeated them to herself.

(_He'll find me. He'll break the curse. We'll be married._)

"He'll do nothing of the kind. Look up at me, princess."

(_He'll find me. He'll break the curse. We'll be married._)

Aurora let out a muffled yelp as she felt Maleficent's sharp nails in her hair. Her head was wrenched up. Maleficent's mocking smile met her gaze.

"He won't save you, my dear. Do you want to know why?" Maleficent briefly paused, as if she were taking a moment to savor her next words. "It's because he's dead. I slit his throat myself."

Even with Maleficent's hand buried in her hair, Aurora managed to frantically move her head back and forth. "No. No, you're lying."

"I should think not. It'll take ages to wash his blood from off the stones."

"No. You're lying. You're not even real. I'm just making you up."

"Denial does not suit you, princess. It makes you seem a little crazed. Not at all convincing, not even to yourself, am I right?

"You're _lying_!" Aurora yelled as she wrenched herself out of Maleficent's grip. Maleficent only chuckled, letting the ripped strands of golden hair fall from her hand.

"Suit yourself, princess."

"_Stop calling me that!"_ Aurora sobbed into the bark of a nearby tree. She felt something wind its way through her hair, and for a moment she was convinced the tree itself was stroking her hair with its branches. But it was only Maleficent (though Aurora rather wished it had been the tree), petting Aurora's hair as if she were a doll.

"Hush, _princess_," she said. "There, there. Doesn't every little girl dream of this?"

Aurora continued to weep softly, but soon Maleficent's touch became less gentle, her nails grazing Aurora's scalp.

"He was disappointed when he found out about you. Your prince wasn't looking for a princess to marry. He only wanted a stupid peasant girl to fool around with. He wouldn't have saved you, even if I hadn't ripped out his throat. You really should thank me, princess. He would only have broken your heart."

Aurora wanted to tear her head away; she wanted to scream again, to deny what this witch was telling her. But what was the point? Aurora had no way of knowing if what Maleficent was saying was true. She had been lied to for sixteen years without knowing it; maybe Maleficent was the only one who would ever tell her the truth.

When Maleficent whispered again that there was no hope for salvation, that no one would ever rescue her now, Aurora believed her. And then the world started to blur and change.

Once her surroundings stopped swirling and shifting, Aurora saw that she was in her room. Not that cold unfamiliar room with the stone walls in the palace; Aurora was in her own bed in her own room in her only home. For a moment, she allowed herself to hope that she had been having some odd dream-within-a-dream, and that now, everything was truly back to normal, but it was a fleeting hope. Aurora knew the truth, and there was no point in fooling herself for a second time.

"It's still not fair, though," she whispered to herself.

Aurora stepped out of bed and looked out of her little window onto the woods beyond. But instead of the idyllic view she was accustomed to, Aurora saw a forest of bare trees outlined against a dull red sky. This wasn't a forest; it was a wasteland. Aurora let out a small gasp at this new landscape, but after the initial shock, it seemed to her that this had always been the view from her window, really. "Good," Aurora said. "No more pretending."

She lifted the latch of her window and opened it wide. There was no warm breeze or sound of birdsong as there usually was on soft spring mornings. The air was curiously still and silent, and only the thudding of her beating heart rang in Aurora's ears. There was something different other than the obvious change to her childhood home. There was something different inside of her, as if she were more awake now than she had been for the last sixteen years. _No_, she thought, _it's not me. I'm not the one who's awake_. She didn't quite understand what changes were coming over her, but she knew that she was no longer entirely herself anymore. Maleficent had ripped out a part of her as she had raked her nails through Aurora's hair. And now someone else had taken over Aurora's body, someone unfamiliar who could _feel_ in ways Aurora had not thought possible or proper. There was something burning inside of her, something that ached for release.

Aurora was interrupted from her reverie by noises coming from downstairs. Aurora froze in fear, expecting to hear that sharp and terrible voice, that cruelly mocking laugh. But instead, she heard the bossy chatter of her Aunt Flora.

"Rose, dear!" Flora's voice called. "Are you going to stay up there forever?"

Utterly confused (but relieved, so relieved, that it was Flora's voice and not _hers_) Aurora left her room and walked down to the main floor of the cottage that she loved so dearly. A familiar sight greeted her: Flora, seated at the table with a list of what everyone was to accomplish for the day; Fauna, humming to herself as she tidied up a bit; and Merryweather, looking completely bored while sitting across from Flora. Except for the odd red glow coming in from the window, everything looked as it always did.

Flora looked up and saw her. "Ah! There you are! How are you this morning, Rose?"

"Hello, dear," both Fauna and Merryweather chimed in.

Aurora knew what was expected of her. She would return their greetings, say she was fine, and politely return the question. But none of that really mattered anymore, did it? Not to this new being who was and was not Aurora.

"Do you have a plan?" she asked.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" Flora replied.

"I think she wants to know what you're going to do today," said Merryweather.

"Oh! Of course!" Flora said. "Well, today, I'm hoping to—"

"No," Aurora interrupted. "Do you have a plan for saving me? For getting me out of this?" Aurora tried to keep her tone calm. Her entire life was in the hands of these three rather absent-minded women.

"Of course we do!" Fauna said. "Right, Flora? What was the plan again?"

Flora looked worried. "Rose, you have to understand something. The spell, you see—"

"I'll tell it! After all, it was my spell," Merryweather interrupted.

"Wasn't it Maleficent's spell?" Fauna asked.

"You know what I mean," grumbled Merryweather. "As I was saying. You're asleep, Rose. And you will be until you receive true love's kiss."

Aurora had been afraid of something like that. "It's no use, then," she whispered.

"What do you mean, Rose?" Flora asked.

"My true love is dead. Maleficent killed him." Aurora sank into a chair at the table and buried her head in her arms, her golden hair spilling over the table's surface. She appeared to be crying, but in reality she was trying to contain the feelings that were rising inside of her, those feelings that burned her from the inside.

"Oh, you mean that boy you met? He's not the only option. There are plenty of young men who would love to marry you!" Flora said, laying a gentle hand on Aurora's shoulder.

Aurora's head snapped up, her self-control weakening. "That could take years! And even then, I'd have to marry a stranger and I'd still be a princess! Oh, why did you take me back there? Why couldn't I have stayed here?"

"That wasn't our decision to make," Merryweather said calmly. "We were only guarding you for your real parents. And they missed you so."

"They don't even know me. I don't know them," Aurora murmured. Tears stung her eyes, but it wasn't sadness that pierced her heart; there was that other feeling, the one she had never felt before, the one that was steadily gaining force over her entire body. And Aurora now realized that she was angry, angrier than she had ever been.

"You didn't do a very good job of guarding me, did you?" she snapped.

"Rose!" all three of them exclaimed. "How can you say that?" Fauna said.

"You didn't tell me anything! And now I'm stuck and I can't get out and my prince is dead and I can't even _do_ anything about any of it! This is the only life I've ever known, and it's ruined even if I do ever wake up."

"Well, if you ask me, we did everything we could," Merryweather huffed.

"You've done nothing!" Aurora stood up sharply, her height making her feel a little more powerful. "You won't get me out of this mess, and you didn't warn me or prepare me for it, either!"

"We were hoping it would never come to this. Maleficent wasn't supposed to find you," Flora explained. "Sit down, dear. Let's talk this through."

"I don't care about the spell. I don't even know if I want to wake up, not to be a princess, not to start life over again with people I don't know. Oh, why didn't you prepare me for this?"

"You're being very ungrateful, Rose," Merryweather said.

"You shouldn't even call me that. That's not my name," Aurora said. "But how will I ever get used to answering to another name?"

"You shouldn't let these things trouble you so," Fauna said.

"I've never let anything trouble me until now. I think I should be allowed to feel troubled just this once," Aurora said.

There was a strange thrill to it. Aurora felt a little guilty for speaking so harshly to the three women who had raised her, but she couldn't stop, either. It was almost purifying, to be able to empty herself of all her troubles, to raise her voice and demand explanations. It certainly felt better than crying all the time, as she had done since she first heard the news that her life was not her own.

"Rose, why don't you sit back down and we'll all talk about this very calmly," Flora said with more than a hint of sternness in her voice.

"No," Aurora said, relishing the force and finality of that syllable on her tongue. "No. I'm going to go now."

Aurora turned her back on the three women and walked out of the cottage. It would never be her home anymore. There was no use pretending, no use weeping over what was lost and could never be regained. This was her world now, this blood-red sky, these bare trees with their arms outstretched in a warped prayer. This was all that was left for her.

She was crying again, but not like she had ever cried before. These tears were so hot they burned her cheeks, and when they fell to the ground, the grass withered and died. Slowly, with deliberateness she had not known herself capable of, Aurora walked into the skeletal cove of trees. The branches tore at her clothes, her hair, her skin, but she did not care. It was almost too much to bear. Aurora was aware that at any moment she would lose this new resolve and sink to the ground in fear and despair, but for now, she bathed in her anger and pushed away the creeping sense that, soon, she would break. She let herself be taken over by this new _thing_, these strange emotions that Maleficent had injected into her like a poison. The gulf between Aurora and this demon within her lessened, and as she let out an almost inhuman scream, she became it, and it became her.

Here, entangled among the trees, tears running down her cheeks, she called for the one who had done this to her, for the only being who had not lied to her, and who would not deny her this anger. As she made her demands to the open sky, the whole world turned red around her.

Aurora was almost becoming accustomed to the sense of disorientation that accompanied awakening. She was not lying down this time, and she almost fell as she slowly tried to gain some kind of awareness of her surroundings. It was dark, wherever she was. _And cold_, Aurora thought with a shiver. She still felt the repercussions of her anger all through her body, but she had settled into it now, and it no longer threatened to consume her in its terrible fire. Aurora reached out a hand and stumbled towards a stone wall. "I just need a light," she whispered to the wall.

"I might be able to oblige," said a voice (_the _voice) from behind her. Aurora whirled around and saw, thanks to the pale green light that illuminated the room, the woman she had called for so desperately in the wood.

"Must you always sneak up on me like that?" Aurora said without thinking, immediately shocked at her own temerity.

Maleficent chuckled softly. "I like keeping you on your delicate little toes, princess. It keeps me amused."

Now that Maleficent's light allowed her to see, Aurora took in her surroundings. She recognized it almost at once: the room with the spinning wheel. And yes, there it was, Maleficent's sixteenth birthday present to her, set up between them. Aurora noticed she was wearing her birthday dress, the one fit for a princess. She could not tell if it was blue or pink; the light made everything look green, even her skin.

"You called for me," Maleficent said with a hint of impatience. Aurora tore her gaze away from the spinning wheel and looked up at Maleficent. She was slightly embarrassed. She had called for her, yes, but that was when she was burning with her newfound anger. It had seemed like the thing to do. Now, she felt like a fool.

"You're the only one left," Aurora finally said.

"Surely not!" Maleficent said with a playful gleam in her eye that was somehow more frightening than her blatant anger. "Does not the princess have a loving mother and father, a doting kingdom of followers who would gladly lay down their lives for the sake of their most revered and beautiful monarch?"

It was only then that Aurora felt a strange weight on the top of her head. She reached up and felt her crown, and the moment she realized what it was, she let out a cry of pain, as though the gold itself had burned her. She pulled at it, but it wouldn't budge. As she struggled, she heard Maleficent laugh. "How quickly we forget."

"I don't want this," Aurora said, resigning herself to the unwelcome weight upon her head. "I never wanted any of this."

"Please do not tell me I came all this way just to hear you moan about the injustice of my cruelty," Maleficent said, a dangerous edge to her voice.

"No," Aurora said.

"Then why, pray tell, are we here?"

Aurora could not respond, because she did not quite know the answer. What had she been hoping for in that terrible moment beneath that red sky? What fate had she thought she was calling down upon herself? As she considered this, Aurora found that she could never completely take her eyes off of that sharply gleaming spindle. It beckoned to her all over again, daring her, tempting her to sacrifice her simplicity of mind for something so much _more_, something that would both terrify and delight her at the same time.

"Ah, so that's what you want," Aurora heard Maleficent whisper. "I'm almost impressed, princess. Come closer."

Aurora obeyed without hesitation, stepping closer to both the spinning wheel and the imposing figure behind it. Her eyes never left the point of the spindle, and she felt her hand give an almost imperceptible twitch. But perhaps that was her imagination.

She could feel Maleficent's eyes on her, judging her, weighing her fear, and Aurora knew she could not back down now if she hoped to escape the woman's wrath.

"Yes, princess, I know what you want from me. You want to make a bargain, don't you? Name your price."

"I want my freedom," Aurora said suddenly, the words escaping her lips without any thought. As if possessed, Aurora recited her terms. "I don't want that life that they made for me. I want to wake up and be free from all of this, from all of them."

"And what will you give me in exchange for all of that?"

"My very soul. I know you would take no less."

"And what would I want with something so dull? Why would I want that pathetic thing you call your soul? Look at me, princess."

Aurora's eyes reluctantly moved away from the spindle to Maleficent's face. Aurora could see nothing in her eyes but cold malice.

"You think your soul would do me any good?"

_And here I am again_, Aurora thought. Once again, she had hoped to find a way out of this mess, and once again, she was disappointed. If not even the devil would take her soul, then who would? Aurora could feel tears rolling down her cheeks, and she hated herself for them. _No,_she thought, _not in front of her_. But it was too late. Aurora heard Maleficent's laughter, and she saw the disdain in her eyes.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to keep that up. You're not meant for the forces of evil, princess. You're too soft, too easy to break. And what would I want with a toy that shatters so easily in my hands?"

Aurora said nothing, because she knew it was true. She tore her glance away from those terrible eyes and once more fixed her gaze on the spinning wheel. Even that spindle had broken her, that small, sharp piece of wood that so many women before her had mastered without difficulty. Why should she be so different? Aurora didn't realize her hand was reaching for the spindle until her finger was only inches away.

"Well, this _is_ interesting. What are you expecting, princess? That it will wake you up? Only true love's kiss can do that."

"But he's dead, isn't he?" Aurora said, surprised at her own callousness. "There's only you, now, and me, and this spindle."

"Little fool. Look at your hands. Do you think they are so fair and smooth because you can handle hardship?"

"They needn't be smooth forever," Aurora responded, almost, but not quite, touching the spindle. Her hand was shaking, no matter how much she willed it to stop. "I'm not scared."

"Oh, but you are," Maleficent whispered, all traces of amusement gone from her voice. With a wave of her hand, Maleficent made the room go dark, only a pale green light surrounding the spindle. "You're trembling, princess," said Maleficent's voice, now coming from behind Aurora's shoulder.

There was no hope in denying it; Aurora knew she was terrified by all of this, by the spindle before her and the woman behind her. What kind of mad bargain had she been willing to make for an escape from this torment? The faces of the people she loved flashed through her mind, and she could feel the disappointment of her aunts. Had they raised her to be so clumsy with her soul that she would allow this woman to sink her nails and teeth into it? Aurora let out a strangled sob but she could not draw her hand back from the spindle.

"Prove it to me," the voice behind her said. "Prove to me that you can claw your way out of this."

Oh, but it was tempting, so tempting, to think that she could finally unwind herself from this tangle of dreams and nightmares, of innocence and guilt. And all it would cost her was her sweetness, her naïveté, her purity. But wasn't that gone already? Hadn't she lost that the first time she pricked her finger on that same spindle? And what had her innocence done for her? It had failed to prevent this ordeal and it had done nothing yet to release her from it.

Aurora moved a step closer, her arm still outstretched.

But it wouldn't do, this time, to only prick her finger. No, that was the previous test. This time would have to be different; she would have to prove that she would not faint away at the sight of that tiny droplet of blood against her lily-white skin.

Aurora took a deep breath, and slammed her hand against the spindle, allowing the sharp wood to pierce the flesh of her palm. She cried out, she could not help it, as the pain spread from her hand to her very soul, but she did not loosen her tight grasp on the spindle. From behind her came the sound of triumphant laughter. Maleficent put her own hand over Aurora's and mercilessly pressed downwards, further impaling Aurora's hand onto the spindle.

"What are you_doing_?" Aurora cried out, eyes blinded with tears and pain. She tried to move her hand away, but Maleficent's hold on her was too strong.

"And what are _you_ doing, princess? Did you think you could become me? You stupid, simpering brat! Not even your loved ones will save you; what makes you think I would trouble myself with so pointless a task? Get used to your dreams, princess, they're all you have left." Maleficent released Aurora's hand and disappeared, leaving Aurora in darkness.

The moment Maleficent had relinquished her hold, Aurora had retrieved her hand from the spindle, cradling it in her other hand. She wet it with tears, but it did not heal, and soon the pain became too much for her to bear. Aurora sank to the floor in a swoon and let the darkness overtake her.

She woke again, her eyes still bathed in tears. Aurora didn't want to open her eyes, didn't want to face the next nightmare. With a sad little laugh, Aurora realized that what she really wanted to do was sleep. Her dreams were exhausting her. After the last ordeal with Maleficent, Aurora was ready to admit defeat. There was no hope for rescue, and she was tired of trying to find a way out of this mess. Maybe she could just lie here, eyes closed, and drift into a real sleep. Maybe she could just give up…

It took Aurora a moment to realize that the soft whimpering she heard was not coming from her. She was not alone. With great reluctance, Aurora opened her eyes. She looked up from her place on the floor and saw a room she had never seen before. Or had she? There was a trace of familiarity, but Aurora could have sworn she had never been in this place in her life.

The sobbing noises were coming from an ornately decorated, cradle in the room. This room was a nursery, Aurora realized, and there was certainly a baby inside that cradle. But Aurora gave little attention to the cradle once she saw the woman sitting next to it.

"Hush, hush, my daughter. What are you crying for? Everything you could ever want will be yours, my dear."

The woman, like the room, was strangely familiar. A fresh bout of tears fell from Aurora's eyes as she realized who that woman was. Tentatively, as if speaking a foreign tongue, Aurora whispered a word she had never had the opportunity to utter before.

"Mother?"

The woman looked over at Aurora, seemingly unsurprised to see someone sprawled on the nursery floor. "I'm her mother, yes. Would you like to see her? She's a lovely child. Come and see."

Aurora stood and walked to the cradle. Inside was a little bundle of soft golden curls and pale pink skin. Even then, even before the fairies' gifts, she had been a beauty, a little princess. It did not take long for Aurora to recognize those curls, those lips, as her own. She looked down at her former self and wanted to cry again. How sad for this child, that her future would consist of disillusionment and nightmares.

"Her name is Aurora. It means 'dawn.' Because that's what she is to me, the start of a glorious new day. I had wanted a child for so long, you know, and now here she is, the answer to all my hopes and dreams."

"She…she's lovely," Aurora said, slightly jealous of the child who knew her mother's love.

"She'll grow up to be a princess, and then a queen, loved by all her people. She's already engaged, in fact, to a young prince. He's a good boy, and he'll be quite handsome when he's older, I'm sure. They'll be very happy together."

"Yes," Aurora said, though she knew better. It would be cruel, though, to break her mother's heart with the truth of what the future held.

While the Queen gazed down lovingly at her daughter, Aurora could not take her eyes off her mother. She had never seen her before, not really. She was supposed to have met her parents the night she returned, though she hadn't been looking forward to it. They were strangers to her, after all, and she had to pretend that she loved them, that she had yearned for them for sixteen years, when really, she hadn't spared them much thought since her childhood. Flora had told her that she mustn't ask questions about her parents, and obedient as ever, Briar Rose had obeyed. But now, for the first time in many years, Aurora wanted her mother. She wanted to be that baby in the cradle again; she wanted her mother to look at _her_ with those adoring eyes. Perhaps she could tell her the truth, tell her that her daughter was no longer a baby. Maybe the Queen would wrap her arms around her grown daughter and tell her how much she loved her.

"I'm sorry," the Queen said suddenly, interrupting Aurora's fantasies. "I don't think I know your name."

Here was her opportunity. But Aurora could not bear to break her mother's heart by telling her how much time she had missed. "Rose," she said at last, trying to fight back her tears. "My name is Rose."

It wasn't fair. Aurora wanted to be that woman, now. She wanted to be Aurora, a princess, her mother's daughter, but now it was denied her. It wasn't fair.

"Rose," her mother said. "Why are you crying?"

"It's nothing," Aurora said. "I miss my mother."

"Poor child!" The Queen checked on her baby once more and then stood up. She was only a little taller than Aurora. "Let me be your mother for a moment."

Aurora fell into her mother's arms, weeping openly, while the Queen gently stroked her hair and continued her lullaby. Shame spread through Aurora's whole being, shame for fighting so hard against this bliss. Was it so hard to accept her mother's love? Was it so hard to leave her carefree childhood behind and become the princess her mother hoped for? Not long ago, Aurora had been willing to give up her soul to escape this fate. She had begged Maleficent to accept her when this woman would take her into her arms at no cost. Oh, how foolish she had been to despair so quickly.

But it was too late, of course. Aurora clung more tightly to her mother as she remembered the harsh reality of her situation. She was stuck in this dream state, unable to awaken while her true love lay dead. There was no point longing for something that could never happen. There was no one to save her. Unless…

Aurora broke away from her mother's embrace, painful though it was to do so. The world around her was becoming fuzzy, unclear, like a watercolor painting. The Queen's face was less distinct, her figure shapeless. Aurora wiped away her remaining tears and closed her eyes, ready to face the next nightmare.

If she had any hope of escaping this cycle of dreams, she would have to save herself.

She was in the tower. She was alone. Aurora stood, leaning against the stone wall while she looked at the figure before her. There was a bed in the room, and on the bed lay Aurora's sleeping form, peaceful and beautiful. Slowly, she stepped closer to the bed and looked down at herself. There had to be a way out of this, a way to break the spell without her true love.

"You're wasting your time, princess," said a voice that had become all too familiar.

Aurora turned around and saw Maleficent, standing calmly with arms crossed, a smug look on her cruel and beautiful face.

"He's not really dead, is he?" Aurora asked her.

Maleficent raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Your prince? No, he lives. But it doesn't matter either way. He won't escape my dungeon."

"That's right. It doesn't matter either way," Aurora said, turning back to the bed.

"What are you doing, princess?" Maleficent asked, a hint of worry in her voice betraying her cool exterior.

"I'm trying to wake myself up," Aurora said. She felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder, but still she did not flinch.

"Now, why would you want to do that?" Maleficent said from behind her. "What could you possibly want to wake up for? Crowns are heavy, princess. Surely the weight of one would break your fragile skull."

"I think I can bear it now," Aurora replied.

"And your dear family? The strangers you must force yourself to love?"

"I will not need to force myself."

"And your beloved? Will you be able to rule your kingdom knowing he rots away in my dungeons?"

"I will have to save him."

"I could offer you something better, princess."

Aurora was silent for a moment. Maleficent clutched her shoulder harder and continued. "I can return your past to you, princess. I can recreate that rustic cottage of yours. You can remain a peasant girl, innocent of the world's hardships."

She could be lying, Aurora thought. This was a test, after all, a test to see if she was ready to wake up. And Aurora knew she was ready. "No, thank you. I'm ready to be a princess now."

With an angry snarl, Maleficent removed her hand from Aurora's shoulder and fell silent. Aurora supposed that meant she had passed the test. She turned to look behind her, but Maleficent was gone. Aurora let out a sigh of relief, finally feeling like she had some small amount of control over her situation. Now, she just had to figure out how to wake herself up. But when she glanced down at the bed again, she let out a gasp of surprise. The sleeping body was gone.

And then she knew what to do.

Aurora lifted her skirts and climbed onto the bed. She placed her head against the soft pillow, clasped her hands together, and took a deep breath. It was time for Briar Rose to become the Princess Aurora, who, at this moment, was supposed to be in a deep sleep; so she closed her eyes and let herself drift off to sleep. She thought she heard a cry in that moment, a cry of anger and hatred and pain, but sleep took her before she could give it another thought. (She had no way of knowing that at that same moment, a fierce and terrible dragon was shrieking in pain from the sword that had pierced its belly.)

She woke when he kissed her, of course, but she would have eventually woken even if he hadn't. She had only been sleeping, after all. Aurora saw her prince, her true love, standing over her, and she smiled. He thought he had rescued her, and Aurora was content to let him believe so. Perhaps, one day, she would tell him the truth.


End file.
